


Firebugs

by spiritualmachines



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Bacon, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Fire, Intoxication, Kissing, M/M, POV Third Person, Pyromania, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 09:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritualmachines/pseuds/spiritualmachines
Summary: Excerpt:"I wouldn’t turn around if I were you…"





	Firebugs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themayqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themayqueen/gifts).



Bacon sandwiches always reminded him of the first time Taylor got drunk and nearly burned the house down. Yes, the _first_ time. 

For as skilled as Taylor was in the kitchen when sober, the moment alcohol was added into the mix he turned into a walking disaster. More than once, Zac had clung to his waist in an effort to keep him out of the death trap otherwise known as the room that contained all the potentially dangerous utensils and appliances, but the food spoke to him after his blood alcohol content reached a certain level. 

It was probably a good thing his brother lived alone. On one hand, Zac hated seeing him so lonely when times got rough, but on the other, he couldn’t imagine how any girl (or guy) would ever put up with Taylor once he had more than a few drinks in his system. 

"Tay, no one is going to deliver a pound of bacon to your house," Zac yelled from his spot on the couch. 

Sometimes Zac wondered how _he_ managed to put up with him. 

Taylor went through several different phases when drinking and each one has a distinct personality. It was as though he had alcohol induced multiple personalities. So far, in the span of an hour, Zac had witnessed the silent phase that had started the drinking in the first place, the loud phase, and now he was in the food phase. Eventually he would become clingy, flirty, and hyper before passing out cold wherever he stopped. 

Zac should have known better than to take Taylor up on his offer to come over for some beers and BLTs. Given his brother’s tendency to set things (and sometimes people) ablaze while he was cooking, he probably should have headed clear in the opposite direction. But then he remembered that Taylor made the best bacon sandwiches in the world, and, as often was the case, his stomach spoke much louder than the voice of reason. 

“But I _need_ more bacon. A pound is not going to be enough!”

Taylor’s declaration was followed closely by a crash of glass hitting the tile as well as a loud curse that echoed off the walls. Zac was off the couch and in the kitchen before Taylor could even bend down to start picking up the remains of the shattered beer bottle himself. 

“Ohhh, no you don’t. Remember what happened last time? No stitches. You know I don’t like the sight of blood.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re not a _real_ man,” Taylor declared.

Then he pouted and folded his arms across his chest, his narrowed eyes following Zac as he crouched down to begin gathering up the broken pieces. He desperately wanted to point out that Taylor himself looked more like a child than a man in that moment, but he swallowed down that thought and went a different route instead. 

“Of course, that must be the reason,” Zac muttered, appeasing Taylor with a nod as he swept up the splintered glass. “It has nothing to do with me not wanting to see my big brother on the verge of bleeding to death due to his own drunken stupidity. It’s that I’m not _man_ enough to handle it.”

After crawling toward the garbage to dump the glass out of his hand, he stood up to get the broom. But before he could even take a step toward the closet, Taylor was blocking his path, his arms looping around Zac’s waist and bringing him in until their foreheads nearly touched.

He gasped, his breath lodging in his throat despite himself. Although he was familiar with Taylor’s tendency to become extremely affectionate while intoxicated, he managed to catch Zac off-guard every single time. 

“Sorry, Z-man,” Taylor slurred, genuine remorse shining in the glassy blue depths of his eyes. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“You know I hate it when you’re hurting,” Zac murmured. “Physically or emotionally. I’m always going to be here for you so that you are here for me for a very, very long time.”

He hadn’t meant to get so emotional in response to Taylor’s apology, but he couldn’t seem to stop the words from pouring out. Maybe _he_ needed to stop drinking before he turned into the sappy mess of a woman Taylor had basically just accused him of being. 

Thankfully, Taylor didn't appear the slightest bit bothered by his reply. If anything, his words seemed to cause Taylor to hug him with renewed vigor, his stubby fingernails digging into his hip, his breath washing over his neck as he spoke. 

"You're my favorite person in the world," Taylor whispered.

In that moment, he sounded remarkably sober, although everything else about him indicated that he was three sheets to the wind, and Zac was rendered speechless once again. Then, Taylor slapped his ass before skipping away toward the stove.

Blinking, Zac wasn’t sure how to even process what had just happened. He didn’t have a lot of time to think, though, as he saw Taylor grabbing the kitchen lighter from a drawer and extending it toward the stove. 

“Tay!”

This was exactly how the fire had started the first time, and the second time, and even the time after _that_. Taylor was never content with the size of the flame the stove produced on its own. He always needed bigger and better.

“Give that to me, you pyromaniac,” he scolded, taking the lighter from him and lighting the stove himself. 

“I prefer the term 'firebug,'" Taylor argued petulantly and somewhat defensively as he peered over Zac's shoulder.

"Yeah, because that's totally more manly," Zac said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be mean,” Taylor whined softly, pressing his nose to Zac’s neck as he leaned against him from behind.

Taylor had shifted from chef mode into flirt mode in the blink of an eye. The first few times this had happened, Zac had a hard time dealing—after all Taylor was his _brother_ , so for him to be in such close proximity was wrong on a whole hell of a lot of different levels. As time had passed, he’d grown more accustomed to it, simply closing his eyes and allowing himself to enjoy it on the most basic level.

Like Taylor, he lived alone and had suffered through his fair share of long, lonely nights. On some nights, it was maddening. Truth be told, he craved a warm body in bed beside him, the need to make a meal for more than just himself for once, and someone to talk to when his mind was running a mile a minute. Over time, he’d learned to enjoy the affection he received from Taylor when he was intoxicated without overanalyzing it.

“I’m never mean to you,” he finally responded, turning around to face him.

The feeling of Taylor’s lips crushing his own nearly made him collapse into a boneless heap on the floor. He figured Taylor would retaliate with one of his signature, quirky responses, but _this_? This was something that Zac never could have expected, not even from someone so daring and flighty and altogether unpredictable. 

As surprising as the kiss was, Zac didn’t pull away. In fact, he moved in closer and kissed him back with equal fervor. The slight roughness of Taylor lips, the taste of alcohol, and the firmness of his arms around his waist all swirled together and added to the arousal taking over his mind. 

The electric heat of Taylor’s tongue touching his was so fiery and intense that flames may as well have been licking at him from within. It gave him a rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced. 

Zac didn't even want to think about the last time he had made out with anyone, let alone sincerely enjoyed the feeling of simple mouth to mouth contact. He had played by the rules his entire life without knowing that breaking them could feel this good. 

As his fingers tangled in Taylor's soft hair, the suddenly screeching of the smoke detector yanked him off of cloud nine and back to the ground. 

“Holy shit. That’s not good. I, uh… I wouldn’t turn around if I were you…” Taylor trailed off.

As any normal person would do, he whipped around simply because Taylor had warned him _not_ to do it. The burner had taken on a life of its own, the bright-orange flames licking at the backsplash behind the stove and searing into the wallpaper. A roll of paper towels was flaming on the counter, threatening to teeter and fall right into them.

"Shit," Zac echoed, grabbing Taylor's hand to pull him toward the door while reaching for his phone to dial 911.

“But… but the bacon…” Taylor protested, gazing longingly back toward the kitchen.

“We can always buy more bacon. But I can’t buy another you,” Zac replied firmly, steering him in the opposite direction.

Without even realizing what he was doing, he secured his arm around Taylor’s waist. He couldn’t explain it, but he needed to keep him close, keep him _safe_.

As he spoke to the dispatcher, Zac kept his fingers hitched in Taylor’s shirt to prevent him from going in after the bacon. 

“The fire department is on their way…“

Taylor merely heaved a dramatic sigh in response and slung his arm around Zac’s waist in return. It was strange… witnessing such a massive disaster as it took place before their very eyes was no less than traumatic, and they should have been freaking out, but instead they both remained almost eerily calm as they watched the house go up in flames. 

Maybe they both had a little bit of firebug within them. 

"So," Taylor said slowly, once it became abundantly clear that there was no hope of being allowed inside to retrieve any of his belongings. "How do you feel about a roommate?”

“I have to say, I’m feeling pretty good about it,” Zac replied, tightening his grip on his brother’s waist.

"You know I'm going to lose my shit later, right? Like I’m predicting a full-on meltdown once I sober up and reality sets in," Taylor said. 

“I’m fully prepared to handle that… on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That you let _me_ do the cooking from now on,” Zac said. “Although, I have to say I’m not sure I can live without your amazing bacon sandwiches, so I’ll let you make those, but only under my strict supervision. Deal?”

Taylor pressed his lips together, clearly struggling with the idea of relinquishing control of his precious kitchen, but he eventually nodded, leaning back against Zac's car without letting go of him..

“Deal.”


End file.
